The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1887-04-09

tains, kneeling, as usual. in the morning
sunshine at the foot of herfather's grave
her hands clasped, and her head bowed
down in pious reverence, when she wa:
startled by hearing the ivy rustic upor
the low and ruined wall beside her
Raising her eyes quickly, and IN some
alarm, she beheld the face of a man
whom she recognized as an occasional
laborer of her fathers, staring in upor
her devotions with some expression Of
surprise and compassion.
"Whisht whisht, Miss!' he ex
claimed, waving his hand to her, as il
to signify that she should not regard
his presence.
How did you know that was here
Jerry? Were you sent for me?" sale
Lilly, rising from her knees.
20 no, Miss-not I-but-" observing
her eyes red from weeping-''you
oughtn't to do that at all, Miss. He
wouldn' like it,"
"Why so?'
s.Tisn't good, Miss. KNEW myself OF
a time, a lone woman, a widow, that
used to be goen that way every day tc
cry over her son that was buried in the
churchyard-an' at last, you see, one
day as she was kneeling that way, an
claspen her hands, and ochoneing over
the grave, she hard somethen above
her, upon the wall, as it might be this
way as l am now-and sure, what
should be there but himself. 'Ah then,
darlen?' says she, lis that you Mike:
Lord save us!' 'Ethen it is so, mother,
says he, .and don't do that any more,
says he. oh then, what for, shouldn't
l cry over you, Mike. darlen?' says she
looken at him. No don't, mother,
says he, for its well I suffered to you
for all you cried already. Look here!'
says he. liften up the winden sheet that
was upon upon him, and showed her
his side all full of holes. There's one
of Them says he, for every tear you
shed for me. says he, and don't do it
anymore upon me, MOTHER says he.
NO, 1 won't indeed, Nike says the
poor woman, dryen her eyes at once.
Don t them says he agen, an he van
ished. An she didn It either"
"Well, I thank you for the advice,
Jerry, but will thank you still more if
you will not say word of your having
seen me here, to any body"
''Is it I say word of it?" said Jerry
O'Gilvy, Indignantly.
He did say word of it however, and
two words; and this circumstance it
was that induced Suil Dhuv to suggest
to his dupe, Kumba, the idea of meet
ing Lilly at the place to which Jerry
would conduct him, a grove lying on
her road home from the church-yard;
the latter being strictly cautioned by
the Coiner not to make the young man
aware of the object of her morning
walk for he had penetration enough to
know that Kumba's feeling, if not his
principle, would never permit him to
disturb her on such a mission,-indeed
we might say his common sense, fol
however much he trusted to the effect
which he might be enabled to produce
on Lillys resolution in a personal in.
terview, he could expect nothing less.
than an indignant and final repulse to
such an attempt as the present. Neither
would it have answered the views OF
Suil Dhuv that they should meet, OF
that Kumba should in any way succeed
in his wishes. It was enough for him
to have acquired an additional influence
over the mind Of the latter, by making
the proposition-hew was not by any
means so anxious as his friend imag.
ined, that it should proceed to a salts.
factory accomplishment. This, how.
ever, was sufficiently provided against,
by slight circumstance which took
place the very evening before. An an
onymus note directed to Miss Byrne.
and informing her in two lines of Kun.
ba's design, which was left at Drum
scanlon, not only filled her with indjg-
nation but effectually confined her to
the house, while Knmba and his chap
eron Jerry beat about the grove until
noon, in vain. The note was left at the
kitchen door, by thin, sharp faced,
and barefooted lad, who neither made
nor answered inquiries, and of whose
mission James could collect no
farther indication than that he spoke in
alf-Englifed way about "dis, an dat
and de oder ting"
Thus circumstances stood at Drum
scanlon, on the day preceding that
which was destined to involve, in so
singular conjecture, the fortunes of
so many characters in our history.
CHAPTER XIII.
Brabantio-My daughter o my daughter.
Senators-Dead?
Brabantio-To me.
She is stolen from mel
-Othello.
The day following was las the reader
has already been made aware) the Eha-
na.Shann 0r tho ovo of CT Tol,r3o dow